I wanted to ask Santa
by AAB
Summary: Harm and Mac are coming out of a theatre one night when they see a little girl wandering the street. When they ask her what she is doing there in the middle of the night she says "I wanted to ask Santa".
1. I wanted to ask Santa

**I wanted to ask Santa  
**

 _Saturday night  
Somewhere in Washington_  
It was late – or early, depending on your point of view – almost two o'clock in the morning and Harm and Mac were on their way back from a late night movie. They were discussing the movie's plot when Mac suddenly stopped walking and turned around.  
"Did you see that?"  
"See what?" Harm asked surprised.  
"I thought I saw a child, a little girl." She scrutinized the street, slowly turning around her axis. Suddenly she spotted a movement. "There!" she pointed.  
Harm followed her finger and indeed only fifty yards away walked a little girl. She wore only a jacket over her pyjamas and little wellies on her feet. He and Mac looked at each other. Who would approach her? They didn't want to scare her.  
Harm took the first step.  
"Hi, little one, where are you going?"  
"To Santa Claus," the little girl answered, walking on.  
"Why?" Harm said a bit taken about.  
"To ask for presents," the girl stated like it was the most normal thing. But now Harm realized she was shivering in the night air and quickly shrugged of his jacket. He scooped the little girl up and wrapped her in it.  
"Santa has gone home, to Mrs Santa," he told her. "They are sleeping now."  
The girl looked up to him, wide-eyed. Her lower lip started to shiver.  
"He is sleeping now?"  
"Yes," Mac stepped in. "And you should be in bed as well. Where do you live?"  
Her somewhat stern voice scared the girl and she clung unto Harm. He wrapped his jacket a bit tighter around her.  
"Don't be afraid," he said. "We will find your mummy. What's your name, pumpkin?"  
"Evie," the girl said in a small voice. By now they had reached the car and Harm was glad for it was rather chilly in only his sweater.  
"Right, Evie. Can auntie Mac hold you for a moment?"  
It was clear that wasn't to the liking of the girl. She pulled a lip and tears welled up in her big brown eyes.  
"Looks like you have to drive," Harm addressed Mac. He didn't want the girl to start crying. Mac nodded.  
"Where are the keys?"  
Harm shifted Evie onto his left arm and pulled the car keys out of his right pocket. Mac opened the door for him and with an effort he managed to sit down with the girl on his lap.  
"You better drive to the nearest police station," he advised Mac. "I can't buckle up with her in my arms and she should be in a child's seat."  
Mac knew he was right. She turned the car and it didn't take long before she parked in front of the Fifth District Station. Walking around the car she held the door for Harm again and together, Evie still sitting on Harm's arm, they walked inside.  
The duty officer stood behind the counter. His eyes widened.  
"What do we have here?"  
"I'm Commander Harmon Rabb, US Navy, and this in Colonel MacKenzie, US Marine Corps," Harm said. "About fifteen minutes ago we came out of a movie theatre and walked back to our car. That's when we saw this little girl walking on the street. Her name is Evie and she was looking for Santa Claus."  
"Okay." The man picked up a phone, said a few words and within seconds a second policeman appeared, beckoning them to follow him. They were led to a small room with a table and a few chairs.  
"I'll be with you in a minute," the man promised. "Coffee?"  
"Yes please."  
True to his words he was back in a few minutes, carrying a tray with three Styrofoam beakers with coffee and one with lemonade. Evie reached out for it greedily but when the man came too close, she shrank back and hid her face against Harm's chest. Mac bit back a smile. 'He really has a way with women,' she thought, 'big or small.'  
"What can you tell me?" the officer asked, sitting down as well.  
"Not much," Harm replied. "We came out of the movies on Helm Street and were walking east to our car when Mac," he tilted his head towards her, "spotted this little girl. Her name is Evie and she was on her way to find Santa Claus." Against his chest Evie nodded.  
"Mummy says there won't be presents so I went to ask Santa," she explained. "But it was dark and cold and uncle Harm said Santa is asleep now." She sniffed. "Santa will bring presents, right?"  
"Yes, he will," Harm reassured her, immediately making his mind up that this little sweetheart would have something under the tree on Christmas morning.  
"Evie, do you know where you live?" the officer went on.  
"With mummy and Jeremy and Laurie."  
"That's great, but do you know which street?"  
Silently the girl shook her head and again her lip started to quiver. The officer decided not to push. After all, upsetting the girl wouldn't help. Instead he rose and said "I'll notify the other stations. I also call Child Protection; if we don't manage to locate her folks, they will take care of her."  
For a second Harm gritted his teeth; he had seen in too many cases involving Child Protection wasn't in the best interest of the child, but he knew it was the law.  
The officer left to make the phone calls and they waited. Evie had rested her head on Harms chest once more and slowly dozed off. Harm sat motionless in order not to disturb her. From behind her eyelashes Mac watched them. 'He would make such a good dad, one day,' she mused. She could only hope she would make an equally good mother.

It wasn't before long that the officer returned.  
"We found the mother," he declared. "She already contacted the police herself, after she found out her daughter was missing. It seems the little girl slipped out of bed and managed to open the door by herself. She will be here in about ten minutes."  
And indeed, ten minutes later a distressed mother rushed into the room. She al but snatched her daughter out of Harm's arms and held her close, smothering her with hugs and kisses.  
"O my baby girl, I was so afraid!"  
Finally she looked at Harm and Mac. Her eyes were full of tears.  
"Thank you so much."  
"Why are you crying, mummy?" Evie asked drowsily, patting her mother's cheek.  
"Because I was so afraid when I didn't find you in your bed," her mother told her. "It was very naughty of you to go out on the street on your own. Luckily these two nice people found you."  
Shifting her daughter on her arm she reached out to give both Harm and Mac a hug. "Thank you very much! I'm so grateful you saw her and took care of her. By the way, I'm Gayle Walker."  
"Harmon Rabb and Sarah MacKenzie," Harm introduced Mac and himself.  
"What happened?" Mac asked curiously.  
"I don't know. I checked on the kids when I went to bed and about two hours later I woke up to find Evie's bed empty. I had one of my neighbours sit with the other children when I notified the police and went out to search."  
The officer re-entered the room.  
"Ma'am, a Child Protection's worker is here to talk to you."  
The mother looked at Harm and Mac.  
"Sorry, I have to talk to him."  
"Don't worry; we know. We'll be in touch," Mac promised.

 _Sunday evening  
Gayle Walker's house  
_They came early, at 6.30pm so they could see the children before they would be in bed. When she saw Harm and Mac little Evie rushed to greet them while her older brother and little sister followed at a more quiet pace. Politely Jeremy shook hands when he introduced himself and his little sister Laurie. From the background their mother looked with a broad smile on her face.  
Gayle went to get coffee and Jeremy returned to his toys. He was building a little windmill from Knexx but the struggled with the construction and the wheels didn't want to turn.  
"Sir, can you help me?"  
Dutifully Harm sat next to him and pretty soon he managed to find the flaw and make the windmill work.  
"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate your help. Mummy is not good at this."  
"Can't your daddy help you?"  
"I don't have a dad. Well, I have but he is a marine and is defending our country," the boy told them proudly. Then he looked glum. "I miss him."  
"I guess you do. When I was your age, I didn't have a dad either," Harm said.  
"Did he write or call?" Jeremy wanted to know.  
Harm shook his head. "No, my dad was a navy aviator. When I was five he went missing in action in Vietnam."  
"Is he dead?"  
"Yes, he died."  
"I'm sorry, Sir," the boy said sincerely. Harm had to swallow a lump.  
Luckily Laurie came, dragging a tattered book with her and wanted to be read to. Harm lifted her on his lap and started reading. Jeremy and Evie sat at his feet and listened, too. When the book was finished their mother announced "Time for bed, guys."  
"Uncle Harm must see my room," Jeremy declared.  
"Mine too"!" Evie was not to be left out.  
"I'll come and see both of your rooms," Harm said. "And Laurie's, too."  
"Evie and Laurie share," Gayle told. She took over her youngest daughter so Harm could stand and follow Jeremy to a tiny room. There was no bed in it; the mattress was on the ground. Harm frowned. The boy saw him look.  
"I was jumping on my bed and it broke," he said. "Mummy says I get a new one as soon as she has money for it."  
It wasn't before long the kids were in their pyjamas and had washed their faces and hands and brushed their teeth. Gayle gave them a goodnight kiss and all three wanted to hug their new aunt and uncle. Then the lights were turned off and the doors were closed.

With the kids in bed it was time for the adults to sit and talk. Sitting on the couch Gayle started to tell.  
"I want you to know Greg is a good man. The only thing, he is not a family man. He loves the Marine Corps; it's his life. I met him when I was eighteen and he twenty-five. My parents and I had moved to a house on the same block as his parents. He was on leave and we had a fling. We both knew it was a fling and that was fine with both of us. But after he had returned to his unit I discovered I was pregnant. We did have safe sex but sometimes things don't work out," she shrugged. "When he came back after six month and found out, he did the right thing and married me. First we lived in his parents' basement and when Jeremy was six months we moved into a house on base. At first it was fine but after a while … let's face it, I'm not a military wife. I hated the cliques, the fundraisings, the forced closeness. I had to like my neighbours, just because we were in the same boat. I tried, I really did, but I just didn't fit in. We moved again, to a place just outside base but still I felt trapped. We went into counselling and for a while it went better. We even went for a second child and Evie was born. But then Greg was promoted to special ops and with that came relocation. And another relocation and another. He loved his job; but each time I had to quit mine. I felt disconnected from my family, my friends, my life. Divorce was only a matter of time but then we found out I was pregnant again. We tried counselling once more but he was away so much it didn't work out. Seven months after Laurie was born we split up."  
She sighed.  
"Jeremy thinks it's his fault. That he isn't the son his dad wanted, too dreamy, not a son to rough and tumble with or to play baseball. That's not true. They don't have much in common but Greg loves his children. All three of them. He made sure I get child support and a bit of alimony. He even moved back into his parent's for he doesn't make enough money to support two households. The money is put in my account right from the military so he doesn't have to worry about it when he is on an assignment. If, God forbid, something happens to him, we'll get his benefits. He calls when he can and he sends the kids postcards and letters and gifts as much as possible but being in special ops that can be nothing for weeks and then a stack at once."  
She rose to pour more coffee.  
"I have to say, we are better friends now, than the last months we lived together."  
Stirring her coffee Mac asked "Did Evie tell you why she went out last night?"  
Gayle sat down again.  
"Yes. You have to know, even with child support and alimony and my wages money is tight." She waved around. Although the room was neat and clean, you could see the furniture was old and the carpet needed replacement. In a corner there was a small tree with only three or four presents under it and the rest of the decoration were mostly children's drawings and crafts. Gayle went on.  
"The previous months both my fridge and my car broke down. There were some medical costs the insurance didn't cover. Evie overheard me talking to a friend expressing the fear there would be no presents with Christmas. That morning we had seen Santa at the Mall and she decided to go back and ask him to bring presents."  
"Wasn't the door locked?" Mac couldn't help asking.  
"It was, but the key was in it. I always worry something will happen at night, like a fire, and I don't want to have to search for the key then," Gayle explained. "I checked on the children before going to bed and they were sleeping, or so I thought, but two hours later I woke up with a start. In hindsight I must have woken up from the door banging. I went to check again and found Evie's bed empty. It was still warm. I ran outside but didn't see her. That's when I called the cops and asked the neighbours to help me search. Lilian stayed with the Jeremy and Laurie and Patrick helped me canvas the neighbourhood. I was so relieved when the phone call from the police station came."  
"And now?" Harm wanted to know.  
"This morning I had a visit from Child Protection. They spoke to me, the neighbours and to Evie but they were fine with the situation. The only thing I have to do is install an alarm that warns me when the door is opened. In a week they will check on me." She blew out a breath.  
"Well, it's another expense I didn't count on, but little compared to losing your children. And of course, I have to buy Jeremy a new bed. I'm going to ask around whether someone has one to spare. Laurie will need a bigger bed soon as well."

In the car back Harm was silent and subdued. Finally Mac decided to ask.  
"What's wrong?"  
"Nothing."  
"Haaarrmm," she trailed his name. "You hardly said a word since we left."  
He trough her a sideways glance. It was clear she wouldn't let him get away without an explanation.  
"I was thinking about Greg."  
"You struggle with it, don't you?  
"What?"  
"A father leaving his children."  
Harm was silent for a few moment, to gather his thoughts.  
"Yes," he confessed. "I think, being a father you have to be there for your children."  
"Are you angry at your own father because he wasn't home, with you?" Mac asked softly.  
Harm shut this mouth with an almost audible clap.  
"No, I was proud of him. You know that! And we were at war!"  
"We still are," Mac stated. "War on terrorism. That man Greg is doing exactly the same thing as your dad was doing."  
Harm felt silent once more. He hadn't looked at it that way.  
"Yes," he admitted after a while. "Guess you're right."  
They drove on.  
"What's next?" Mac wanted to know after a while.  
"I was thinking, those kids need new beds. There's not much space in the girls' room but I think enough for a kind of bunkbed. You know, half high and in a 90 degree angle. A friend of mine has one he wants to get rid of and I'm going to call him whether it's still there."  
Mac frowned. "I don't understand."  
"I mean, in a normal bunkbed you have one bed low to the ground and another straight above, about shoulder high." He looked at her to see whether she understood and when she nodded, he went on "With this kind of bed the one is low to the ground but the other one is about midriff, I guess, and they overlap." He held his flat hands in a 90-degree angle to illustrate his words.  
"You mean, one child's feet are below the other child's feet?"  
"Yes."  
Mac nodded. "Good idea. And I was thinking, maybe we can play a bit of secret Santa?" she hesitated.  
"Sounds like a plan," Harm agreed smiling.

 _Later same evening  
_ "Hello Samuel. It's Harm"

"No, I was thinking, do you still have that bunkbed you told about?"

"Great. Yes, I have a candidate, someone I think your wife will approve of. Single mum, ex in the military, three kids."

"No, he does, but sometimes the expenses outweigh the income. You know, some unexpected setbacks."

"Right. Then I come and collect it, let's say, this Friday, at five, if that's all right with you?"

"Okay, see you then."

 _Friday evening  
_ Together with Samuel Harm hauled side panels, headboards, bed bases and two matrasses up the stairs. Inside Gayle was waiting for them, a broad smile on her face. She already removed sheets, blankets and pillows and both children's rooms were waiting. First the two men dismantled Evie's bed, to rebuild it in Jeremy's room. Then they started to set up the bunk bed in the girls' room. The last thing to do was bringing Laurie's little bed and Jeremy's old matrass to the car. The matrass was going to the dump; for the little bed Samuel had a good destination, a young immigrant couple with a one year old and little money. In the meantime Gayle made the beds again, 'helped' by the overexcited children.  
Afterwards she poured a hot drink.  
"I'm so happy and grateful," she told them. "I already installed an alarm and with the new beds I have complied with all the requirements of Child Protection. I know I probably will be under surveillance for a while but for now …" She looked at her children, playing in a corner.  
Jeremy looked back at his mother, abandoned his toys and walked over to them.  
"I am very happy with my new bed," he told them with a serious face. His mother gave him a hug.  
"What have you guys been doing?" Harm wanted to know.  
"Making a wish list for Santa," the boy told him, walking to the side table and grabbing a few sheets of paper, which he showed Harm. On his wish list were fairy tale Playmobil, a sword and shield, pencils and a sketch book and several books. Evie list contained doll's clothes, a doll's crib and games while Laurie would love large beads, a jigsaw and a stuffed tiger. The girls also listed a few books. Thinking about the agreement he and Mac had made to play secret Santa, Harm did his best to memorize them, but it was hard because Jeremy was talking to him and telling him about school and playmates.  
Luckily it wasn't before long Gayle called it a day for the children. Evie stood in front of Harm, her little arms stuck out to him to indicate she wanted him to lift her up and carry her to the bedroom. Here Gayle helped the children into their pyjamas and Harm was told he had to read them a story. Then there were kisses and cuddles before Gayle closed the doors behind them and the kids went to sleep.  
Walking back she threw a look at Harm. He was a nice man, attractive and good with kids. A man to fall in love with easily. But she had also seen the way he and Mac looked at each other, especially when the other wasn't looking and the way they were in sync. She supressed a sigh. It was clear Harm was not the man meant for her. Well, a girl could always dream, couldn't she?

Later that week Harm and Mac had a meeting to discuss their secret Santa-plan. Harm had written down the items the kids wanted and had done some searching on the internet. As Mac felt you never could have enough, let alone too many, books, she had decided to buy them each a book and she also would be looking for doll clothes for Evie. Harm told her he would go for some Play Mobil and the stuffed tiger, and, so he said, paper and pencils or felt tip pens for all of the children. They decided to put the receipts into an envelope so Gayle could return things, just in case.  
"But will she accept?" Mac pondered. "She might be too proud; not everyone likes to be a … I don't know how to explain it. Maybe she feels like she is some kind of a charity project."  
"She will," Harm said quietly. "I discussed it with her. Of course she would prefer to be able to buy gifts herself but … "  
"You did? When?" Mac had asked before she could stop herself. After all, it wasn't her business if he spoke to Gayle without her being present. Still, it made her uncertain.  
"I stopped by to drop off a little bag with spare screws from the bed yesterday." He said like it wasn't a big deal.  
"Okay, when you're sure she won't mind."

The next evening they went on a toy-hunt and after that Harm bought Mac dinner. They had arranged with Gayle to visit her later that evening, when the kids were already sleeping. They still were firm believers in Santa and they didn't want them to see who delivered the presents. So an hour later they knocked on her door, both carrying a large bag. They had had all the purchases gift-wrapped and placed them under the tree immediately. Then they sat down with a cup of cocoa.  
"Thank you very much," Gayle said. "It will mean so much to the children. I feel a bit embarrassed at you stepping in but …"  
"Don't," Harm interrupted her. "We offered. Every child deserves some presents und the tree."  
"But …"  
"But nothing," Mac stepped in. "It's like Harm said. Every child deserves some presents und the tree."  
Cocoa gone Harm and Mac rose to leave. Gayle showed them out and gave them both a warm hug, Harm's lasting a bit longer than Mac's. Which didn't go unnoticed by Mac.

 _Christmas Day  
Harm's place  
16.00_  
The phone rang and Harm went to pick it up.  
"Hi Gayle," he said, a bit surprised. "Wait a sec; I'll put you on speaker."  
"Just wanted to call you to tell you the kids were over the moon with their Christmas presents. Laurie hasn't let go of her tiger and Jeremy is engulfed in one of his new books." She chuckled. "And Evie already decided to try her felt-tip pens on the wallpaper in her room."  
Harm laughed out loud.  
"Sound like the Evie I know."  
"And the biggest surprise, Greg is here!"  
"What?!" Harm and Mac yelled simultaneously.  
"Yes, he knocked on the door yesterday evening late. His assignment went smoothly and his group was sent home for the holidays. He likes to talk to you, too."  
For a moment there was silence and then there was a male voice.  
"Thanks for looking after my family. Gayle told me all about it."  
"You're welcome. How long to you stay?" Harm asked.  
"I have to report again first week of January. I would love to schedule a visit with you, if that's alright with you."  
Harm looked at Mac and she nodded.  
"Fine with us. What about us visiting you let's say, the 28th? Early in the evening?"  
"It's a deal. I look forward to meet you. Thanks again and a happy Christmas to you."  
Then there was Gayle again.  
"And thanks again from me, too. It you were here, I would give you a big hug. Happy Christmas!" Her voice sounded soft and almost tender.  
"Happy Christmas," Harm returned. With a smile he placed the receiver in its socket. He walked to the kitchen and came back with two cups of tea, one of which he handed to Mac.  
"That was nice of Gayle to call," she said. She laughed. "Looks like she likes you."  
He didn't need to know she felt insecure about the attraction between Gayle and him. But to her surprise he shrugged her comment away.  
"She is a nice lady and a fine mother but …"  
"You're not looking for a ready-made family?"  
"No, but if I felt attracted to a woman, kids wouldn't be a deal-breaker. I love children." He turned towards her and smiled. "But I have everything I could wish for, right here."  
At the look in his eyes Mac swallowed  
"Everything?" she whispered  
Harm nodded slowly but deliberately. "Yes," he said, placing his cup on the table. He leaned in and looked her in the eyes. When she didn't pull back, but instead seem to lean in too, he softly let his lips touch hers.  
When the he finally pulled back, they looked at each other in awe. Then Mac scooted closer and rested her head against his shoulder, while Harm wrapped his arms around her.  
"Yes, I have everything, right here in my arms," he whispered in her ear.

The end

 **Happy Christmas, everyone.**


	2. Greg and Gayle

**Greg and Gayle  
**

"Greg is here."  
'Those words said it all' Gayle mused, while she tucked Laurie and Evie in. Jeremy was still in the living, being read to by his dad.

 _December 26_ _th_ _  
_"Is there anyone you can ask to babysit for tomorrow evening?"  
"Yes, I can ask Lilian. She is a neighbour girl, 17 years old."  
Greg frowned.  
"She is quite young."  
"True, but very reliable. She just comes over and sits and studies and if something happens, her parents are just two doors away. She is my regular babysit and the kids love her."  
Her voice sounded convinced and her look was steady. Greg felt a little sting; not knowing the regular babysit once more showed how little he knew about his family anymore. He raised his hands in defence.  
"Okay, can you ask her?"  
"Why?"  
"I want to take you out for dinner. There are things I want to discuss."  
Surprised and a bit worried Gayle nodded.  
"Tomorrow evening?"  
"Yes please."

 _Monday December 27_ _th_ _  
Restaurant_  
'It was … odd to sit opposite him' Gayle mused, throwing a glance at her ex-husband. They had spent years together, but now … It wasn't as awkward though as she had feared; after all they had managed to stay good friends. She redirected her attention to the menu.  
"The fish is very good here," Greg remarked.  
"Yes," she nodded, suddenly feeling touched.  
"What's wrong?" Greg asked, seeing the flicker of emotion on her face.  
Gayle shrugged.  
"Just ... you still know I like fish."  
"Yes," was the only word he said, but there seemed a world of emotions hiding behind it.  
The waiter came to take their order and for a moment they just chatted about family and the children. Despite Gayle writing regularly and making the kids 'write' as well, there were so many little things he didn't know and he was a captive listener. Then she asked "You seemed annoyed when I suggested asking Lilian to babysit."  
"Not annoyed. It just hit me that I didn't know who your regular babysit is. It made painfully clear I'm no longer part of the family."  
Gayle bit her lip. How to answer that?  
"You're right and wrong. You don't live with us anymore, but you will always be our children's father. And my friend."  
He nodded grateful. Then he took a deep breath.  
"There is something I want to talk about. Something I have on my chest for a while. You know I always thought it was just you having problems with being a military wife. But recently I found out how hard it is for any military wife. Your husband being away for long periods, not knowing where he is or when he will be home, but knowing he is in a dangerous situation. Not knowing whether he will make it home safely at all. Having to cope with the loneliness and to run things at home on your own. Try to keep both worlds, your husband on missions and you and the kids home, connected."  
"How come? I mean, what made you change your feelings?"  
Greg took another swig of his beer. She could see it was hard for him to talk about it.  
"We had an assignment this autumn." He looked apologizing. "Can't tell you more, or where, but … at first everything went smooth. But the third day things went wrong. We walked into an ambush and lost a man. And had three others injured." He said it matter of factly, but she saw the muscles in his jaw work.  
Her breath hitched. It hadn't been him, but that was ... what? Sheer luck? Fate? She grabbed his hands, squeezed them  
"Oh Greg. I'm so sorry!"  
He nodded shortly.  
"Thank you," he managed to bring out.  
'Who were it? And what happened?"  
"It was a roadside bomb. Scott didn't make it. Juan was one of the wounded. He is in rehab now. They had to amputate his left arm. The other two suffered shrapnel wounds. You won't know them; they joined our group lately."  
Gayle bent her head, tears in her eyes. She had known Scott and Juan; special ops groups were close-knit. Had to be; they relied on each other in the most dangerous situations.  
"You must give me their addresses and Scott's family's address. I like to send cards," she said.  
"I will."  
Silence ruled for some moments. Then he freed his hand and swept it over his eyes.  
"Right."  
She gave him a soft, understanding smile. After a while he started to talk again.  
"I saw their families. Their distress. I talked to their wives and girlfriends. And I learned each of them struggled. Not only now, now the thing they feared most had happened. But before as well. Like I said. The constant fear, the loneliness, the … All the things you complained about. They had experienced it, too."  
Gayle nodded. She remembered their discussions, even fights, about it.  
"I always thought you exaggerated, or just weren't tough enough, but I was wrong. It was not your fault. I saw how you felt; I didn't see how all those other women feel. We never talked about it before, but over the last weeks I talked to the other married men in my group and they all, all their wives … we were not the only couple struggling. And ours wasn't the only divorce, just because of that. So, I'm sorry, I want to apologize, for not listening properly, for not taking you serious, for blaming you."  
She could only stare at him.  
"I know it's probably too late, too little, but I just wanted you to know, okay?"  
Before she could answer - not that she knew what to say - her cell phone went.  
"Sorry, I have to take this. Maybe it's Lilian."  
"No, sorry, I have these days off. The children …"  
"No, I don't think … I don't know anyone who …"  
Greg raised his hand to get her attention and pointed at himself.  
"Sorry, maybe … can I call you back in a few minutes?"  
"That was your boss?" Greg asked.  
"Yes. My colleague had an accident and now he is asking me to fill in. But the kids …"  
"I can take care of them," he interrupted her. "That is, if you trust me with them," he added a bit insecure.  
Gayle was shocked.  
"Of course I trust you with them! Whatever we fought about, it was never because you're not a good father!"  
He gave her an almost shy smile.  
"Thank you. But my daddy skills might be a bit rusty."  
"You'll be back in the swing in no time. The kids will love to have you with them. And Jeremy can help you. He is a very clever boy. Maybe even a bit too smart for his age."  
Greg smiled.  
"You better call your boss back then. I have to report back on base the 7th, so I have over a week."  
When she had ended the phone call, she smiled.  
"He said he will make it up with me. Give me a bonus and a couple of days off later next year."  
Greg got a big grin on his face.  
"That's good. You know, I talked to my folks before I came to Washington."  
"Weren't they disappointed when you wouldn't be home for Christmas?"  
"A bit, but they are spending the holidays with my sister in New Mexico. And they were very approving of me spending time with my children. They miss them."  
"As do my parents," Gayle sighed. "I haven't seen them for months. But the journey, with three small children and getting days off and the money, it just wasn't going to be."  
"Mum and dad are very happy with the photos you sent. They are grateful you make an effort to keep in touch and don't deprive them of their grandchildren."  
"Why would I? As I said, you and I had our problems; it wasn't something they did and the kids love and need their grandparents."  
"You sound very … mature."  
She reached out and he took her hand.  
"I did some thinking of my own."  
The waitress came with their dinner and for a while they ate. With the food gone, he asked "You said you did some thinking?"  
She rested her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands.  
"Not long after our marriage ended, I came in touch with a support group for single mothers."  
"Whine together over their badass exes?" It sounded both resentful and ironic, but she didn't take the bait.  
"Yes, that too. But also emotional support, in coming to terms with the failure of a marriage, with raising children on your own, with the troubles of making ends meet. We tip each other about bargains and upbringing, and when you feel lonely, there is always someone you can call. Many of us lost a large part of our social network in the divorce."  
Greg looked repentant.  
"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said that. I just felt bad about the thought you aired our dirty linen."  
'I didn't," Gayle said quietly. "Yes, I talked about it, but not in detail."  
"I'm sorry," Greg repeated. "I know you needed the emotional support."  
"I did. But talking to those other women taught me other things as well. You said 'whining about our badass exes'. If anything, talking about exes taught me you're anything but a badass ex. So many of my friends don't get child support, let alone alimony. So many kids don't see their dad anymore, because he is not interested. Sometimes he has a new family and can't be bothered with his 'other children'. You don't know how they envied our relation after the divorce. Your support. That we managed to stay friends. They asked me why we ended our marriage and you know, sometimes I had trouble to explain."  
She could see in his eyes how touched he was. The waitress approached with the dessert menu and he was glad for the distraction and the chance to regain his bearings. Both opted for coffee with chocolates and when the cups were on the table, he had recovered enough to talk again.  
"I have to go back in action in about 10 days. But only for two months. In March I will be relocated to Pendleton, California, for training. In between I will have a few days leave again. Jeremy is free from school as well then, so I was thinking, maybe you can cajole your boss into giving you those extra days then and I pick you up and we go visit our parents."  
Gayle swallowed. It sounded so much like before, before the divorce. Just a young family visiting their mutual parents.  
"Gayle?" Greg's voice sounded concerned.  
"I think it's a very good idea," she managed to bring out.  
"What's wrong?"  
"Nothing. Just …" She swallowed a few times. "This is how it was supposed to be, you, me, the kids …"  
His face dropped and he kept silent, not knowing what to say. Coffee gone he asked "Do you want another one?"  
"No," Gayle shook her head.  
"Let's go then."

Outside the air was crisp and the sky was clear.  
"Take the bus or walk?" Greg asked.  
"Walk," Gayle quickly decided. She could use a bit of exercise and to be honest, she enjoyed the time spent with her ex-husband-but-still-friend.  
Greg started to talk once more.  
"Those people, Rabb and MacKenzie, what do you know of them? I mean, Jeremy was very enthusiastic and that man seemed to give him a lot of attention. You're sure he can be trusted?"  
"What do you mean, Harm preying on Jeremy?"  
He shrugged.  
"Or you?"  
Gayle burst out in laugher.  
"No. No way. They're just two nice people, willing to help. You will see for yourself, tomorrow afternoon." She could see he wasn't convinced, but he refrained from commenting. Instead he pulled her arm through his.

 _December 28th  
Gayle's house  
_"There they are, there they are," Jeremy yelled at the top of his lungs and he rushed to open the door.  
"Hello little man," Mac greeted him, bending over to give him a hug. Harm gave him a high five.  
"Yes, here we are."  
Greg stood up from his chair and came also to welcome them. There was a moment of hanging coats and offering tea and then the children came to show Harm and Mac what Santa had brought. The presents were duly admired and the adults exchanged a knowing look.  
It wasn't long before the girls had dragged Mac into their game and Jeremy was back in his corner, flipping through one of his new books. Gayle was in the kitchen, when Greg judged it the right moment to talk to Harm.  
"I heard from Jeremy you gave him a lot of attention," he started. Harm gave him a sideways look.  
"Yes," was the only thing he said.  
"Why?" Greg knew he sounded hostile, but he had to know.  
"Because I feel for him," Harm answered. "And no, it's not what you may think. It's because I can relate to him. I was also a young boy with a father being in the military and away from home. And after that, a boy without a father."  
"Oh," Greg didn't know what to say.  
"I don't blame you for asking. But Jeremy lacks a father-figure in his life sometimes and when we met … well, I have soft spot for boys like him."  
"I see." Greg blew out a breath.  
"And Gayle?"  
Harm refrained from raising his brows. After all, they were divorced, but he understood the other man's protective feelings.  
Instead he answered "Gayle is a nice woman, but I'm not interested." He threw a loving look at Mac and she, feeling his eyes on her, looked up and smiled back. It was enough to convince Greg Harm wasn't a threat.  
"If it makes you feel better, you're welcome to call my CO, Admiral AJ Chegwidden, Judge Advocate General of the Navy," Harm added.  
Greg swallowed. He was not going to do that.  
"No offense," he uttered.  
"No offense taken," Harm calmly told him. Mutely Greg extended a hand and Harm shook it. The two men understood each other.  
Gayle came back to pour a second round of tea and presented home baked cookies. Evie was quick to point out which one she had made and the rest of the afternoon went by in amiable chatting and playing with the kids.

 _Car on the way home  
_ "What was that between you and Greg?" Mac wanted to know, as soon as Harm had started the engine and joined the traffic. Harm bit back a smile; he should have known the exchange wouldn't have gone unnoticed by his girlfriend. His thoughts wandered on this, Mac his girlfriend, and he didn't answer her question.  
Mac waited patiently for some moments, then nudged him. "What was that between you and Greg?" she repeated her question.  
Now he answered.  
"Men's talk."  
Mac snorted.  
"Yeah, right."  
"He was protecting his family and wanted to know what intentions I had," Harm explained. "Towards the children, especially Jeremy. And towards Gayle."  
"What did you say?" Now Mac was curious.  
"That I felt a connection with Jeremy, because once I was a boy like him. And that I like Gayle, but are not interested in a relation with her."  
"He still loves her," Mac stated.  
"Do you think so?"  
"Yes."  
Harm sucked in a breath.  
"Do you think they make a chance to reconcile?"  
Mac tilted her head in thought.  
"Yes. They're still friends. Maybe when Greg can see things a bit more from Gayle's prospective."  
"He already does. Gayle told me he had been talking wives of other marines and that he let go of the idea it was just her not being able to cope."  
"And she, does she still love him?"  
"She didn't say," Harm answered. He looked at her. There had been something in her voice …  
"What's wrong, honey?"  
"Nothing," She knew she had answered too fast.  
"Mac?"  
Mac shrugged.  
"I think she has a crush on you."  
Harm realised he had to proceed with care. Their relation was so new and he knew she was still a bit insecure about it, afraid to get hurt when things didn't work out well. Besides that, in the past his preference had been long-legged blondes, and that was exactly what Gayle was.  
"I know," he admitted. "But that is not, do you understand, _not_ mutual. As I said, she is a nice woman, and yes, she is attractive, but I am in love with you."  
Waiting for the traffic light to turn green he reached out and caressed her cheek.  
"I love you and I want to build a life with you."  
Mac let out a sigh. She pressed his hand to her cheek.  
"I love you, too. And that's wat I want, too, to build a life with you."  
"I really hope they get it right, also for the children."  
"Me, too."  
The light went green and she let go of his hand. When they reached her house, he walked her to her door. Mac turned and wrapped her arms around his neck.  
"Stay.'  
Harm rested his forehead against hers.  
"Not that I don't want to, but you're sure it's not too soon?"  
"Yes." She gently rubbed her lips against his. With a smile he stood straight.  
"Why don't I get my sea bag out of my car?"

The end


	3. Chapter 3 Greg and Gayle - Trial

**Greg and Gayle – Trial**

 _Early February  
Harm's place  
Sunday evening_  
The telephone rang and reluctantly Harm reached out to pick it up.  
"Hi Gayle," he said surprised. There was a rush of nervous chatter at the other end of the line.  
"Calm down, please. I don't understand you."  
Next to him Mac perked up her ears.  
Again he listened intensely for a while.  
"I don't know whether I can do that, but I will look into it."  
"I'll call you as soon as I know more, okay?"  
"Right. Say hi to the kids from me."  
He placed the receiver back in its cradle and sat back in his chair again with a serious expression on his face.  
"What is it?" Mac asked.  
"It was Gayle. Apparently Greg is in trouble. You remember he and his crew walked into a mine last autumn? One fatality and two or three men seriously wounded."  
Mac nodded.  
"He now is accused of dereliction of duty and endangerment of his men. He should have misunderstood or ignored orders or intel. Gayle was very upset, so I didn't understand all she said. I promised to call some people tomorrow morning."

 _JAG Headquarters  
Monday morning  
_It turned out Harm didn't have to make good on his promise. At ten there was the usual staff meeting. After giving a report of their current cases and receiving new ones, the Admiral held up the file of the last case at hand.  
"Greg Thompson, accused of dereliction of duty, resulting in one death and three injured. Commander Rabb, you defend, with Lieutenant Roberts second chair, Colonel MacKenzie, you prosecute."  
Mac and Harm exchanged a look, which didn't go unnoticed by their CO.  
"Is there a problem?" he wanted to know.  
"Sir, we both know Officer Thompson," Mac hesitated.  
Chegwidden frowned.  
"Right." He looked around, trying to make his mind up. "Major Hancock, you hand your cases over the Colonel. You prosecute."  
"Yes Sir." The man gave Mac two files. These were simple cases of petty theft and way beneath Mac 's normal caseload, but she didn't blink.  
"That will be all," the Admiral closed the meeting. His officers rose and went to work.

 _JAG Headquarters_  
 _Monday afternoon  
_ Both Harm and Bud had read the file. It had been very minimal, just the facts. The special ops unit should have gone to a small village to arrest a man, believed to be involved in bomb making for suicide terrorists. But somehow instead of going west Greg Thompson had led his unit to the east, ending up in on a small pathway. One of the men had thought he saw a person and, trying to get a better look, had walked off the path and into a roadside bomb. He had been killed instantly. Three other men had been seriously injured; one of them losing his arm. Bud gritted his teeth; less than a year ago he had lost his leg because of walking into a mine field. Harm threw him a concerned look.  
"You okay?"  
The younger officer nodded and straightened his shoulders.  
"Yes Sir. I'm fine, Sir."

 _JAG Headquarters  
Tuesday morning  
_As Greg had only been suspended and not put in jail, Harm had summoned him to come to JAG. They were sitting in Harm's office, Harm to question Greg, Bud to make notes.  
Greg was ushered in and Harm told him to sit down.  
"Good morning."  
"Good morning, Sir."  
"Right. As you know we are your attorneys; this is Lieutenant Roberts. We are here to get as much information of you and to work out a strategy. While we speak, Lieutenant Roberts will take notes."  
Greg nodded.  
"Last autumn you were team leader of unit Alpha Sigma, with the task to eliminate a bomb maker in the north of Algeria. During this assignment your unit ran onto a roadside bomb. One of your men, Scott Hepworth, perished and three others, Juan Álvaro, Aiden MacBride and Brett White, were injured. How did you feel about that?"  
"How do you think I felt?" Greg burst out. "Miserable! Lousy! Guilty!"  
He jumped up from his chair, his eyes spit fire and his fists were clenched.  
"Calm down, Lieutenant," Harm said sharply.  
Greg all but snorted. "What do you legal whinnies know?" he said bitterly. "I lost a man there, and Juan lost his arm."  
Bud swallowed. Abruptly he stood up.  
"I'll get us some coffee," he said between clenched teeth.  
Harm waited till he was out of the room.  
"You better apologise to the Lieutenant as soon as he is back," he told Greg in an icy voice. "Almost a year ago he lost part of his leg in a mine field in Afghanistan, while trying to safe a child. We got him back to ship, but he went into cardiac arrest during his surgery. Mac and I were about to hear he didn't make it, when miraculously his heart started to beat again."Only his eyes betrayed his emotions.  
Greg paled.  
"Sir, I … I'm so sorry; I didn't know," he stammered.  
Harm just looked at him. Then he said "Not everyone here comes straight from legal school. A lot of us have combat experience. Besides, I've been in more dangerous and potential lethal situations since I started working for JAG, than I during my years in the cockpit."  
The man opposite him looked very ashamed.  
Bud came back, carrying a tray with three cups of coffee. Greg stood up and came to attention. His eyes flickered briefly to Bud's legs.  
"I want to apologise, Sir. What I said was way out of line."  
With a short nod Bud acknowledged his apology. "Sit down," he said.  
The three men drank their coffee. Then Harm took the lead again.  
"Right. Let's start at the beginning again. What happened?"  
"It was October the 16th," Greg started, now a lot more compliant. "We had intel about Mahmoud Abdel, a known bomb maker of one of those little terrorists groups. Avengers of the Islam, or something like that. It was said he was hiding in a small village. There were three ways leading to it. On one of them we knew there were snipers, so that wasn't an option. We were well on our way when we got a radio we had to take the route east. So we took the east route and about four hundred yards down all was blown to pieces." He pulled a face, realizing what he said. "Scott thought he saw someone and put three steps aside. He stepped on a roadside bomb and was killed immediately. Juan was the next man. The bomb blew off his arm. Peter managed to ligate the haemorrhage, otherwise we had lost him, too. Aidan and Brett were injured too, but less severe. We radioed for help; a Heli came and took Juan, Aidan and Brett to base. There was no room in the chopper anymore, so we carried Scott's body home. You don't leave a man behind." By now his voice was void of any emotion.  
There was a moment of silence in the room.  
Then Harm asked "The critical point is the intel. You are sure you understood it right?"  
"Yes. We, Scott and I that is, both understood it loud and clear. Besides, it's procedure to repeat the instruction, so that the radio officer has the opportunity to correct you, if necessary. We both repeated the intel and there was no correction."  
"Did one of your other men hear it?"  
Greg shook his head.  
"Only Scott, but he ..."He swallowed. "The others were too far away when the message came through."  
Harm flipped through the file and came up with a copy of the radio message.  
"There is a correction here," he pointed out. "Something was scratched out and the W from west was written above it. In his testimony the radio officer receiving the intel says he wrote an E for east by mistake, but corrected it immediately. He then gave the message to his colleague to contact you. That second man can't remember whether the correction was there. Or that's what he says. He claims it was over four months ago and he has dozens of messages to send every day. So it's your word against theirs."  
"Do you believe me?" Greg wanted to know.  
"Yes. But how we are going to proof it, that's a different story. It's going to be hard; I cannot sugar-coat that."

 _JAG Headquarters  
Two weeks later  
Thursday afternoon  
_It had been hard. To be honest, it had been impossible. Over the previous weeks they had interviewed everyone involved in the case: both Greg's men as well as the men on base. None of the special ops team had heard the conversation between base camp and Greg and Scott. All of his men volunteered to be a character witness and Harm had told them he needed only a few. All promised to be there in court, both ready to be called to the stand and to support Greg and his family.  
On the other hand, the two radio officers had stuck to their story. Harm didn't like to admit it, but he was at his wits' end. For the umpteenth time he sat with Bud, discussing the case when, suddenly, Bud's hand hit the table.  
"ESDA!" he called out loud.  
"ESDA?" Harm didn't get it.  
"ESDA stands for electrostatic detection apparatus. It's also called an EDD; electrostatic detection device," Bud explained. "It's used to detect writing indentations in paper."  
Harm frowned.  
"I still don't get it," he said.  
"If you write something down, you press a pen or pencil onto the paper. This does not only deposit ink or graphite, but you also slightly compress the paper. And not just the paper you're writing on, but also whatever is beneath it," Bud started to explain. "Those notepads they use, they have numbered pages. You only tear a page off, after you have written on it. That means the indentation of what you wrote is also on the next and the next and maybe the next page. We know the note in question is number 135 and has a correction; E was altered into W."  
He waited till Harm nodded.  
"If that correction had been made immediately, while Petty Officer Chavez was still receiving intel and writing it down, indentations of that correction must be on page 136 and page 137 at least. But if the correction was written later, when the paper was already torn off, there is most likely no indentation. We have to ask NCIS to examine those two pages."  
"But what if he tore off the paper and then corrected it?" Harm objected.  
"What do you when you add something?" Bud asked. "You still have the paper on top of your notepad, simply because it writes better than when you have the paper on the bare table. There still would be the indentations of the scratches and the W, although not on the spot they would be if he had corrected it right away."  
Slowly Harm nodded.  
"I think you have a point here. But where do we find those other notes?"  
"Guess we have to subpoena them," Bud said. "But we need act fast, trial is next week."

 _Court  
Monday  
_They had worked fast. But whether it had been fast enough still was to be seen. The results on the ESDA tests weren't back yet, but Harm had added NCIS' forensic investigator Abigail Scutio to his witness list anyway.  
Harm forced his attention back to the witness on the stand, Petty Officer Chavez.  
"So you are sure you corrected the intel right away, while you still were sitting behind your desk, headset on? You hadn't remove the page from the pad, yet?" he asked.  
"Yes Sir," the man answered confidently.  
"No more questions, Your Honour," Harm said. "But I'd like to reserve the right to question him again."  
"Granted," Judge Malrosa said. He looked at his watch. "I suspend for lunch; we will start again a 13.30," he continued. Harm bit back a sigh of relief; at least it gave him a bit of respite.  
But it looked like it wasn't enough. At 13.30 precise Judge Malrosa banged his gavel to indicate court was in session again. He looked at Harm.  
"Your next witness, please."  
Harm looked at Bud, but he shook his head. Harm opened his mouth to say there was no next witness, when there was some disturbance at the door. Both defence and prosecutor turned around to see what was happening. A young woman, clad in a short black pleated skirt, over the knee high black boots, a tight fitting low cut black shirt and a dog collar made her way into the room. A MP tried to stop her, but she insisted on coming in. When she saw Harm look at her, she waved her arms in the air.  
"Your Honour, can I have a moment with my next witness?" Harm asked.  
Judge Malrosa frowned.  
"I take it she is on the witness list?" he informed.  
"Yes, Your Honour," Harm confirmed. "Forensic investigator Abigail Scutio from NCIS."  
The judge consulted his list. He nodded.  
"I see. You can have five minutes."  
Harm beckoned Abby over and the MP stepped aside and let her pass. She rushed over to him and from her briefcase, adorned with a silver skull, she produced five evidence bags and two files.  
"And?" Harm asked and Bud leaned over in order not to miss a word.  
"You were spot on, Sir," the forensic investigator bubbled. She lowered her voice so the prosecutor wasn't able to hear and quickly filled them in about the results of her investigations. She had just finished when Malrosa coughed.  
"Commander Rabb?"  
"We are ready, Your Honour," Harm replied, now a lot more confident. "First I like to ask Petty Officer Chavez one or two more questions."  
The Petty Officer walked over to the stand and the judge reminded him he was still under oath. Harm took four evidence bags and showed the contents to the Petty Officer.  
"Can you tell me what these are?"  
"These are pages number 133, 134, 136 and 137 of my notebook," the man replied, a bit surprised.  
"The notebook you used on the 16th of October of last year?"  
"Yes. The date is on all of them."  
"And these are your handwriting and your initials?"  
"Yes Sir."  
"How many pens did you use?"  
"Only one, Sir." Now he sounded surprised and nonunderstanding.  
"Page number 135 is already in evidence; I'd like to file the other four as piece of evidence number 2, 3, 4 and 5, Your Honour," Harm asked.  
The judge extended a hand and Harm handed the items over. The man looked closely at them and nodded.  
"Sustained. Anymore questions?"  
"That will be all, for now."  
"You may step down," the judge told Chavez.  
"Then I'd like to call miss Abigail Scutio to the stand."  
It was clear Abby was a lot more at ease in her laboratory then in court, but she straightened her shoulders and all but marched to the witness stand.  
"State your name and profession for the record, please," Harm started his questioning.  
"I'm Abigail Scutio, forensic investigator with NCIS Washington."  
"You investigated evidence of this case?"  
"I did, Sir," Abby confirmed.  
"What can you tell us about the items you investigated?"  
"I was asked to investigate five pieces of paper: pages number 133 till 137 from the notebook used by Petty Officer Chavez on the 16th of October of last year."  
"These are the pages?" Harm held them in the air for her and the rest of the court to see.  
"Yes Sir."  
"What tests did you perform and what can you tell us about the results?"  
"First I looked at the handwriting. All the messages were in the same handwriting, including the correction. They all matched the reference sample of Petty Officer Chavez you gave me. Then I looked at the paper."  
Abby took a pad and a pen out of her briefcase.  
"When you write something on a writing pad, it will leave indentations on the next pages," she started to explain, at the same time scribbling some words and showing them to the judge and jury. "When you softly rub over it with a pencil, they become visible again. You might have used it as a kid, like a kind of coded message."  
She was rewarded with a few nodding heads.  
"Nowadays we use an ESDA, an electrostatic detection apparatus, to make those indentations visible. It doesn't violate the evidence. Can I use the projector?"  
The judge nodded and Abby handed a flash drive to the bailiff. It took her only a few key taps to come up with a little movie, showing how an ESDA worked. Then she went on with the evidence.  
"I started with page 135. As expected I found the message on it and some indentations from the messages on page 134 and earlier pages. As these are classified information and not of any importance in this case, I won't tell what they said. Then I looked at page 136 and page 137. On page 136 I found indentations of page 133, 134 and page 135, as expected the latter the strongest. Page 137 had indentations of page 134, 135 and 136." She looked at the jury to see whether they still understood.  
"I focussed on the indentations of the message written on page 135. It was all there." On the screen appeared three images from page 135, 136 and 137 and Abby used a little laser to point out the letters one by one.  
"All there … except the correction, that is."  
A gasp went through the court.  
"You are sure of that?" Harm stressed.  
"Yes Sir, there is no indentation of any correction on page 136 nor on page 137."  
Harm waited a few moments to let the importance of these words sink in. Then he came with another question.  
"You preformed yet another test?"  
"Yes, I did. I used a video spectrometer to test the ink used to write the messages. It uses different light frequencies and we use it to determine whether different inks have been used. All the messages are written with the same ink. Again, all except the correction, that is. Although to the naked eye the colour looks the same, the chemical composition differs."  
A few pictures on the screen showed the different layers of writing and the different compositions.  
"What does this tell you?"  
"That the message and its correction were written with different pens and probably not at the same time."  
"Was it possible to detect how much time there was between writing the message and writing the correction?"  
"Not to the minute. In both cases the ink had dried almost completely, leading me to the conclusion the correction was made within a few minutes to a maximum of two hours after the message was written."  
"What makes you think the correction was added later?"  
"It doesn't make sense when you have one pen in your hand, using it for all your writing, to switch to another, just to alter one letter and then switch to the first pen again. The ink used on the pages 136 and 137 was the same as used for the pages 133, 134 and 135."  
"Thank you, no further questions."  
The judge looked at the prosecutor.  
"Your witness."  
The man stood.  
"Can you tell me your credentials, Miss ... Scutio, wasn't it?"  
Abby's eyes flashed.  
"I graduated with full honours from Louisiana State University with a triple major in sociology, criminology, and psychology. In addition to that, I have my masters from Georgia State University in criminology and forensic science. I also have a PhD in chemistry and have worked for NCIS for five years now."  
The prosecutor swallowed.  
"Right," he said. It was clear he strained his brain to come up with another question, but failed miserably. Deflated he turned to the judge.  
"No further questions, Your Honour," he said.  
"I'd like to call Petty Officer Chavez to the stand again," Harm asked and judge Malrosa nodded.  
Chavez was visibly nervous when he took the stand for the third time.  
"Petty Officer, can you explain how it's possible that there are no indentations of the correction from E to W on page 136 and page 137? This despite your testimony you corrected it right away, without removing the page?"  
The Petty Officer shook his head. His eyes didn't meet Harm's.  
"Can you explain the difference in ink between the message and the correction, despite your testimony you only used one pen?"  
Again the Petty Officer shook his head.  
"I don't hear you. Can you speak a bit louder, please?"  
"I can't," was the whispered answer.  
Harm looked at the jury.  
"I don't think the jury heard you. A bit louder, please?"  
Next to him the Petty Officer heard the judge's warning cough. It was mouse-still in the hall.  
"I can't."  
"No, you can't. You can't, because you didn't correct right away. In fact, you only corrected the E into a W after you learned an incident had happened, right  
Again the Petty Officer nodded, but a stern look from Harm urged him to speak up.  
'Yes. When we heard the call for help, I realised I made a mistake. I panicked and slipped into the radio room. I managed to find the note and changed the E into a W."  
"So the intel that was _given_ to officer Thomson and his crew was 'Take the eastern route'?"  
"Yes." Ashamed he hung his head.  
Harm looked at the judge.  
"Your Honour?"  
The judge looked at Major Hancock.  
"No questions, Your Honour," the defeated prosecutor said.  
"Any more witnesses?"  
Harm shook his head.  
"No, Your Honour."  
Now the judge turned to the jury.  
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, you've got your instructions. To you the task to decide whether Officer Thompson is guilty of dereliction of duty, causing the death of one of his crew and the injuring of three others."  
He banged his gavel and the members of the jury rose and followed the bailiff to their conference room.  
Greg looked at Harm  
"What's next?" he asked.  
"We go to my office and they will warn us when there is a verdict. I don't expect it to take long," Harm replied. And indeed, they hardly had time to drink a cup of coffee when the phone rang and they were told the jury was back.

In the court room the jury had just taken their seats again. They threw quick looks at the people coming in and there were small smiles.  
As soon as they had entered, the door to the judge's room opened and the bailiff yelled his 'All rise'.  
Judge Malrosa nodded at the jury's chairwoman.  
"You reached a verdict?"  
"Yes, Your Honour." She handed a little note to the bailiff who brought it to the judge's bench. After reading Malrosa sent it back.  
"Will the defence please rise?"  
Harm, Bud and Greg did so.  
"Can you read us your verdict?"  
The woman cleared her throat.  
"We, the jury, find the defendant Second Lieutenant Greg Thompson not guilty of the accusation of dereliction of duty, nor of the death of Scott Hepworth and injuries of Juan Álvaro, Aiden MacBride and Brett White."  
This was met with a buzz and supressed cheers in the auditorium. Malrosa banged his gavel and silence returned.  
"We also wanted to express our condolences for the loss you and your team suffered," the lady went on. Greg acknowledged her words with a nod.  
"This decision was made unanimously?" the judge wanted to know. All jurors' heads nodded.  
"Right, then I declare Second Lieutenant Greg Thompson not guilty. Lieutenant, you're free to go."  
Behind him Harm heard Gayle's sob of relief. Greg turned towards him to shake his hand.  
"Thank you, Sir."  
"You're welcome." His broad smile showed how much Harm too was happy with the verdict. Then Greg turned to Gayle. There were tears in her eyes as she flung herself into his arms. He held her close and buried his face in her hair for a few moments. Then a cough made them step apart. An elderly couple stood behind them, the man clearly military as well.  
"May I introduce you to my parents? Retired Master Chief Petty Officer Landon and Mrs Landon," Greg said, one arm still around his ex-wife.  
"Bob and Jeanine, please." The man shook Harm's hand. "I'm very grateful, Sir."  
Harm just smiled.  
"I just did my job, Sir."  
Bob turned towards Gayle and Greg.  
"I guess we let Eric and Evelyn know you're acquitted, too."  
"My parents are here was well," Gayle explained. "They are with the children." She slicked her hair back behind her ears. "We are going to celebrate this evening. Please, can you and Mac come too? Matthews Family Diner at Harbour Street, six o'clock." She looked at him hopefully.  
"We will be there," Harm promised.  
With a last nod the family left.

 _Monday evening_  
 _Matthews Family Dinner  
_ Eleven people sat around the large table. Greg, Gayle, their mutual parents and the three children and finally Harm and Mac. The kids had been elated to see them and Jeremy had hugged Harm and yelled "I knew you could do it; I knew you could get daddy free." From the background his grandparents watched smiling.

They sat and ate and chatted. Not only about the trial, but about everything that came to mind. At around eight, the kids started to get tired and it was decided to call it a day. Mac excused herself to visit the ladies' room and with an apologizing look Gayle followed her. She wanted to talk to her in private.  
Both women washing their hands, she started.  
"Can I talk to you for a moment?"  
Mac nodded, not knowing whether she really wanted this conversation.  
"Shall we sit for a moment? Gayle pointed to a little bench. Mac did as she bade and waited. When they were seated, Gayle took a deep breath and plunged in.  
"You might have noticed I was … very impressed by Harm. He is a good man, he is a looker and he is good with kids. It would be easy to fall in love with him. But I want you to know Harm never said or did anything to … to make me think he was interested in me. Besides, from the first moment on it was clear how much the two of you were in sync with each other."  
Mac took a deep breath. She had noticed the other woman's interest.  
"Thank you for telling me," she simply answered. "Harm is indeed a great guy."  
"I was afraid you might feel uncomfortable …" Gayle explained. "I like you, too, and I like to stay in touch."  
Mac smiled. She wasn't prepared to tell she had felt insecure and uncomfortable. Sometimes her less than perfect upbringing still affected her.  
"What are your plans now?" she informed instead.  
"Greg has to report at base Pendleton, California, in two days. There he will continue the training he was in before this trial came up. After that, he will have a few days off and we plan to visit our parents. My boss promised me a few days off. I did him a favour last year."  
"And after that? I mean, between you and Greg?"  
Gayle sighed.  
"We get along a lot better now. Especially since Greg realised all military wives struggle with their husbands' absence and the constant fear for them. We're talking. If it was just the two of us … But we have the children to consider. If we decide to give it another go, we must be sure it will work out. I don't want them to suffer another split up."  
"I see," Mac agreed.  
"I'm not supposed to tell, but there is a chance Greg can get another job within the Navy. No more missions. But it would mean we have to move again."  
"And you don't want that?"  
Gayle tilted her head.  
"It was one of the breaking points in our marriage, the relocations. But if he gets that other job, his station would be Fallon and that's were our parents live, too. Well, close to. They live in Fernley." She rose to her feet. "But then again, nothing is sure, yet. Please don't talk about it. It's okay to tell Harm, but …"  
"I won't," Mac promised, also standing. "We better go back before they launch a search party."  
Gayle chuckled.  
"Yes, let's."

In the car back to her place she was still very quiet. Harm knew better then to push her; she would tell him in due time. And indeed, as soon he stopped in front of her building she asked "Can you stay the night? Just hold me?"  
"Of course." Grabbing his sea bag Harm followed her inside.  
While he brought his bag to the bedroom, Mac busied herself with making a hot chocolate. It wasn't long before they sat on the couch and went over the events of the day once more. Finally Harm asked "What was it between you and Gayle? When you both went to wash your hands?"  
"Big changes are coming. That is, when all goes well." Mac told him and then filled him in about what Gayle had told her. "I hope it will work out that way," she ended.  
They sat for a few moments, thinking. Then Harm said "But that wasn't all, was it? There was something more personal. There is a reason you asked me to stay the night, other than that you love me"  
Mac hesitated. How to phrase it?  
"It's just … I told you Gayle had a crush on you, didn't I?"  
Harm nodded.  
"It made me ... I just needed … sometimes I have difficulty to realise you chose me, that you love me."  
"I do." Harm said calmly, but with a convincing seriousness in his voice. "You don't need to doubt that, not for a second, not ever."  
Mac scooted over and he wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss on her head. "Not for a second, not ever," he repeated. Mac closed her eyes, just absorbing his love.  
After a while she straightened, biting back a yawn.  
"Can we make it an early night? I'm exhausted."  
"Fine with me."  
Harms started to rise when his cell phone rang and he walked over to his jacket to take the call. Mac brought the cups to the kitchen, giving him some privacy. Then she went to the bathroom to make ready for bed. It wasn't long before Harm joined her.  
"That was mum," he said, referring to the phone call. "She and Frank are on route to Washington now. Frank has an emergency meeting on Wednesday and they want me to have dinner with them tomorrow. I'm not going to propose now; I want to enjoy dating you for a little bit longer and when I propose, I want to be prepared. But I like you to come, too, so I can introduce you as my girlfriend." He looked at her, a silent plea in his eyes.  
Mac felt her eyes grow moist. She nodded.  
"I like that, too," she whispered.  
Harm walked over to her and pulled her into his arms.  
"I love you," he whispered into her ear. "So much! Don't ever forget that!"  
In return she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.  
"I love you, too."

The end


End file.
